Next To Me
by wintryone
Summary: One-shot prompt, inspired by Ekocentric's Fenris dream! Fenris truly ran from Hawke after their one amazing night together. He left Kirkwall to joint a mercenary band, but it's not working out for him. Eleana Hawke tries everything to forget her handsome, sexy elf, but her luck is failing her, too. Slightly AU, but not too much. Cover art by Ekocentric: Eleana and Fenris


_**This one belongs to Ekocentric! I hope you like it, my dear friend!**_

* * *

With one hand Fenris swung his great sword in an arc, beheading his attacker, while with the other, he reached into the chest of the Raider Berserker and ripped the man's heart out.

The look of shocked surprise on the Raider's face meant nothing to Fenris, but the still beating heart in his lyrium-lit hand filled him with such an overwhelming sense of power, he arched his back and roared into the sky.

It was why his fellow mercenaries were afraid of him.

He'd heard their mutterings about the "crazy elf" around the campfire, but he did not care. For Fenris, there was only the thrill of the battle, and the pain of the long, quiet nights. There was no in-between, so solace or succor to be had. There was only the glory of death, and the suffering of life.

His pain had a name. It was Eleana Hawke.

_Eleana_. Sharp of tongue and blade, she'd entranced him from the first. In hindsight, he thought it was the very fact that she'd never taken his foul moods seriously, and had never been put off by his broody ranting, which had allowed her to get under his skin. Hawke had taken him with her everywhere she went, on every job she found - even into the Deep Roads. Being with her, fighting alongside of her, even that wretched place had been enjoyable. When Bartrand had betrayed them and left them to die, she'd never flinched, never faltered.

She'd only smiled and said,_ "The sooner we get out of here, the sooner we can turn your brother into a pincushion, Varric."_

"Oi, elf," came a voice from behind him. "You going to eat that thing for breakfast, or what?"

Fenris threw the now cold heart into the brush and followed his fellow mercenaries back to the road. Another long day of trudging along the Imperial Highway lay ahead of him. The dust from the road in this hot summer season was choking to say the least, but again, he did not care. It was far less than he deserved for his treatment of Hawke.

Most of those who knew him from his days in Kirkwall assumed he was filled with rage because he had once been a slave. Well, according to one Tevinter Magister, he still was. But that deep-seated enmity was his old friend, and had only one cure. One day he would get the chance to rip Danarius' heart from his chest, of this he was certain. Before he met Hawke, his need for revenge had consumed him, he knew, and though it had certainly not lessened in the slightest, his obsession _had_ changed.

It had changed to a dark-haired, blue-eyed beauty, with whom he had shared the most incredible night of his life. And how had he repaid her? He'd walked out of her bedroom, her home, her life – and he hadn't stopped running in the two months since.

Memories haunted him, playing through his mind's eye in a never-ending series of scenes. Eleana beneath him, opening for him, giving him everything he'd never thought he could have. Her soft silken skin under his hands, her mouth teasing and tempting him, determined to explore every inch of him. The playful way she'd used her rogue moves to enhance their lovemaking, slipping and sliding against him until he'd thought he'd go mad from wanting her.

It had been… perfect.

Until the memories had returned. Until he'd lost them all once again.

The mercenary band he now traveled with would never believe what a coward he really was. How he had ran from the only thing, the only person, who had ever meant anything to him at all.

They had been wary to accept him at first. His appearance put most people off, with the softly glowing lyrium etched into his very skin, and the sword on his back that was nearly as tall as he was himself. Reluctantly, they'd given him a chance, and after their first battle, the Commander had handed him a coin purse and told him he had work as long as he wanted it. That was the last thing the man had said to him. The mercenaries rarely spoke to him unless it was to offer veiled insults, but none of them complained when the caravan was set upon, and Fenris killed thrice as many as his fellows.

It was an uneasy truce, to be sure.

It wasn't long before the Commander called a halt, and there was much scurrying as everyone began to set up camp. Fenris found an old log and sat down to wait for his evening meal. He did not share a tent with his fellow soldiers, simply slept on the ground in any convenient place he could find. It was meaningless to him what his body endured, because inside he was a bleeding mess.

It wasn't until he overheard three words spoken in passing, as he sat listlessly spooning greasy stew into his mouth, that anything changed.

"Kirkwall… two days."

He had no idea who had spoken those words – again, he did not care. He only knew that in two days he would once again be in _her_ city. The city of chains. The city where he'd left his heart.

* * *

"Another round for my friend here," shouted Isabela above the din of the bar.

"Um, I'm not sure that's such a good idea, Rivaini," Varric said as he reached to keep Hawke from falling off the bench. "I think she's already three sheets to the wind, here."

"Nonsense," Hawke slurred. "I'm perfectly fine." She eagerly grabbed a pint from the tray Norah brought over to the table. "Cheers!" she said and lifted her mug. "Who's that, Bela?" Hawke peered over her mug at the newcomer who'd just strolled in through the door of the Hanged Man. "Ees cute."

Isabela pouted. "That's not fair, Hawke," she said. "I've been telling you all night if you want some fun, my room's just upstairs."

Hawke lifted one eyebrow and looked at Isabela speculatively. "Never kissed a girl before," she said.

"There's no time like the present," purred Isabela, and scooted closer to Hawke on the bench.

"Uh oh," said Varric. "Things are getting weirder by the minute." Yet there was a grin on his face as he pulled the leather bound journal, the one he carried with him everywhere, out of his pack.

Hawke stared at Isabela's perfectly pouty lips for several long moments before she leaned forward and pressed them with her own. Immediately, Isabela tried to deepen the kiss, but Hawke pulled away, and wiped a hand over her mouth.

"Uh uh, no good," she said and took a long pull from her pint. As soon as her lips had touched Isabela's, she'd remember her first kiss with Fenris. How his mouth had claimed hers so possessively, and how he'd tasted better than the finest wine.

"Hawke," Isabela whined. "You didn't even give me a chance."

"No chance," Hawke replied. "I know these things right away." Like she'd known from the first touch of his mouth, that she would give Fenris everything – all of herself. Why did everything have to remind her of that blighted elf? She pushed away the thought and returned to her pint.

Varric's soft chuckle came from across the table. "Looks like you'll have to stick to your fantasies, Rivaini."

"Hmph," Isabela snorted, and glanced around the barroom. "Somebody around here must be up for some fun."

"I think I'll try that one," slurred Hawke, as she rose from the bench, stumbled, then caught her balance with one hand on the table. Even drunk, she had her moves down. "That cute one." There had to be someone who could erase Fenris from her thoughts. Some other kiss that could set her body on fire and make her heart dance.

Without preamble, Hawke sauntered over to the soldier-type who'd entered the bar only moments before. "Kiss me," she said, and pushed her face forward, offering her puckered lips to the man.

"My pleasure," he said, and grabbed Hawke around the waist before he planted his lips on hers.

It was the wrong thing to do. Hawke's reflexes, even dulled by drink as they were, reacted instinctively. Before the man had had more than a brief taste of her mouth, he found himself lying on the floor, Hawke's boot on his chest.

"I said, kiss, not touch," Hawke complained. "Sides, your breath stinks." Unlike Fenris, who had tasted like heaven itself. She remembered the slide of his tongue into her mouth, and how she'd started to tremble from sheer wanting when he… _No! _she thought._ No more!_

Varric was busily scribbling in his journal when Anders walked in. He looked up and shook his head. He knew what was coming next, and he started to write the scene before it even played out.

"Anders," Hawke demanded. "Come here." The renegade mage was extremely attractive, and even though she was creeped out by the whole _Justice_ thing, she thought she might just be drunk enough to get past that tonight.

"What is it, Eleana?" asked Anders. He was the only one of the group that called her by her first name, other than Fenris. For a moment she hesitated. The sound of her name brought memories of Fenris, above her, calling her name as they joined together for the very first time. _Stop it!_ She thought to herself again, and staggered over to where Anders stood by the bar.

Anders smiled down at her as she reached up and wound an arm around his neck. "How are you?" she asked him sweetly.

"I'm doing really well at the moment," he said as he gazed down at her, his brown eyes warming at her nearness.

Hawke didn't ask this time, she simply stood up on her tiptoes and stole the kiss from the mage. Unlike the unknown soldier-man, or Isabela, Anders didn't press her. He merely molded his mouth to hers and allowed her to do as she wanted. For a brief moment, Hawke thought it might work. His lips were soft, welcoming, and his breath was nice, even if he didn't taste like Fenris. She leaned into him a little bit more, and his hand moved lightly to her hip, as she continued to slide her lips over his, wanting so much to enjoy kissing someone else. Anyone else – except Fenris.

It was like kissing a lamppost. Nothing.

Hawke sighed and pulled away just enough to look up at him.

"Thank you please, can I have another?" he asked, his mouth curved into an amused smile.

"Sorry, no," replied Hawke, and she patted him on the shoulder before stumbling away, back to the table.

"Looks like your experiments aren't going well, Hawke," remarked Varric.

Hawke drained the last of her pint. "I'm goin' home," she said, and began to move toward the door.

Varric sighed, lifted Bianca from the bench beside him, and followed Hawke out the door. Somebody had to make sure she got home okay.

* * *

From the shadows, Fenris watched as Hawke staggered through the Hightown street, vaguely aiming for the front door of her estate. Fenris could only assume she was drunk, and for a minute was angry with her for being out alone in such a state. Then he saw Varric trailing her, watching her progress, but not interfering. As soon as Hawke reached her own front door, Varric turned on his heel and left, without ever having said a word to Hawke – or having seen Fenris.

It was very late, and he was again annoyed when he noticed Hawke had left her door wide open. Foolish indeed, considering the ruffians that prowled the streets at night. He reached out a hand to close it, then impulsively slipped inside and pushed it tightly closed behind him. He could hear banging and clattering, as Hawke made her way through the main room.

Fenris peeked his head around the corner, only to see a trail of armor and weapons leading to the base of the stairway that led up to Hawke's bedroom. He followed her discarded belongings until he reached her bedroom door, which was slightly ajar.

It was completely quiet within her room, and Fenris thought perhaps she'd fallen onto the bed and passed out. She'd certainly been drunk enough. He stood there in silent battle with himself, still unsure if leaving the mercenaries to return to Eleana had been the right thing to do. Would she even want to see him? Could she ever forgive him? In the end, it was the manner in which thoughts of Hawke continually plagued his mind and incited his body that had made up his mind for him – he could not bear even one more day without seeing her lovely face again. He would rather have her screaming at him in anger than to never again hear that smoky voice pass through those perfect lips.

He decided to risk it, and poked his head around the door.

Immediately a vase came flying through the air and smashed against the wall only inches from his head. Water and shards of pottery rained over his face, and he felt his markings begin to light from the unexpected attack.

Suddenly Hawke was at the door, pulling it open, a dagger held tightly in her hand.

* * *

When Hawke saw who her intruder was, the dagger slipped from her fingers and she dropped to her knees.

"Fenris?" She couldn't believe her eyes as she watched him wipe his hand down his cheek, and his fingers came away crimson.

"No less than I deserved, I suppose," he said looking down at her now. His eyes were so sad, it nearly broke her heart.

But then his words recalled to her mind exactly what he had done, and she scrambled to her feet, and with both of her hands, pushed him hard against the wall.

"You bastard!" she shouted into his face. "It's been months! Months!" She pushed him again, and he bounced against the wall. "I didn't know if you were alive or dead!"

"Hawke," he entreated. "Eleana…"

"Don't you _Eleana_ me, " she practically snarled. "How dare you come sneaking back in here like this! You have no right! You left me!"

She could feel the tears building in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. When he'd first left her, she'd been worried about him. That worry had turned into fear, which had then turned into anger, and finally it had become a hurt, a heart-break, so deep she thought she would never survive it. Now, here he was, strolling into her mansion as if he'd never left. How dare he!

"If I could just talk to you," Fenris tried again, though he hadn't moved from where she had him pinned. "I need to…"

"Like I care what you need," she spat. "What about what I need, Fenris? Did you ever think of that? That I might need…" Suddenly, her ire seemed to drain away, and she felt the first tear begin to slide down her cheek. "You," she finished in a voice barely above a whisper.

Hawke turned her back on him and knelt at the foot of her bed. She did not want him to see her cry. Too many tears for too many long, lonely nights, and she'd thought she was done with them. Seeing him again, she no longer knew what she felt.

Hawke heard his soft footfalls as he approached her where she knelt. "I need you too, Eleana," he said. "I came to ask your forgiveness, if that is even possible."

"Just go away," Hawke muttered into the bedspread. "You left me, now leave me be."

When he spoke next, his words were much closer to her ear, and she knew he was kneeling beside her now. "I can't," he said, and the pain in his voice shot straight to her heart. "I have tried, and I cannot stay away from you."

"You've done a pretty fine job for two months," she said, as she turned to face him, but they were just words. More than anything she wanted to forgive him. To pull him into her arms and erase the days and nights without him in her bed.

A tentative hand rested on her shoulder. "Eleana," he said, his voice a low growl in his throat. "I ask only for a chance to be near you again. I know I do not deserve…"

"You have no idea what you deserve," she told him.

"I... What do you mean?" he asked with a puzzled frown.

"You're not a slave anymore, Fenris. Why is it you still wait for scraps, instead of taking what you want?"

"Sometimes, I don't even know what I want," he admitted, his eyes lowered.

Hawke grabbed his chin and forced him to look in her eyes. "I thought you wanted _me_." she told him frankly.

It was the most miraculous thing, watching his eyes change from despair to ferocity. One minute he'd been looking at her as if the world was ending, the next he looked as if he wanted nothing more than to devour her whole.

"Fenris?" she whispered.

"Yes," was all he said.

"Yes what?"

"I do want you. Only you," Fenris told her in his deep, vibrating voice.

His words went straight through her, into the center of her, and the heat began to build. She licked her suddenly dry lips. "Then what are you waiting for?"

He didn't wait any longer. When his mouth descended upon hers, and the taste of him filled her senses, she knew without a doubt why she hadn't been able to kiss anyone else. There was no one else that could take his place. There was no substitute for her wayward elf. She opened her mouth, inviting him in, and with a low groan, he began to feast from her, just as she'd imagined on those many dark, lonely nights.

Hawke had already stripped down to her tunic and leggings, but there was some struggle to remove Fenris' armor. It didn't help that they didn't seem able to stop kissing, and when they'd removed enough of his clothing to make other things possible, Fenris lifted her and sank with her onto the bed.

He seemed a wild thing as he yanked up her shirt to expose her breasts. The cool air of the room hardened their peaks, and Hawke arched her back in a silent plea. Seconds later his mouth was on her breast, pulling the tip deeply into his mouth, as his other hand reached down between her legs.

Their first time together had been amazing - explosive, but this time no sooner had his fingers slid into her smalls, then she felt the first ripples of pleasure spread throughout her body. His fingers became slick as her climax built, and she grabbed at his waistband and freed him from the constraint.

So soft, so smooth, and yet hard and strong and ready for her. Briefly, she traced her fingers along his length, before she took him in her hand and began to mimic the motion she wanted to feel inside of her.

It was too much for Fenris. With a feral growl he pulled hard at her panties and ripped them from her bottom. Hawke couldn't wait. She wanted him. In her. Now.

She locked her ankles around his hips, and finally, finally he pressed into her. This was no tentative first time, there was no hesitation as he buried himself fully into her. He stilled for a moment and looked down into her face, which burst into a giddy smile.

"What do you want, Fenris?" she teased, though her heart was racing fast.

"I want you," he replied hoarsely.

"Mhmm," she murmured. "You've got me. Now what will you do with me?"

His hips began to move, and just before his mouth locked down on hers once again, he told her, "Allow me to show you."

* * *

When Fenris awoke in the morning, with Hawke in his arms, at first he wondered if he were dreaming. Yet none of his dreams had ever been this good, and the scent of their lovemaking still clung to him, arousing him yet again.

"Hey big boy," Hawke murmured sleepily, and dropped a soft kiss upon his lips.

"Eleana," he said and pulled her more tightly into his embrace. "How I missed you."

"Well," she said with a sly grin, "if you're very good, I might let you stay."

Her words, simple as they were, set his heart to beating hard in his chest. "Stay?"

"Yes," she agreed. "But there are conditions."

He felt like a fool as he once again repeated her. "Conditions?"

"Yes, would you like a list?" she asked. "I can make you a list."

He refused to give into her teasing again, and this time demanded. "Tell me."

"Oh no," she said, shaking her head. "I prefer to show you."

She reached for him then, wrapped her clever fingers around his growing arousal, and for the first time in longer than he could remember...

Fenris laughed.

**THEN END**

* * *

_A/N Thanks to Fenzev for the second pair of eyes :)_


End file.
